


Come Through Stone Walls

by Violsva



Category: Carmilla - J. Sheridan Le Fanu
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Misses Clause Challenge, Vampires, Yuleporn, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 02:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2796329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violsva/pseuds/Violsva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I saw, or fancied I saw, the room and its furniture just as I had seen it last, except that it was very dark, and I saw something moving round the foot of the bed, which at first I could not accurately distinguish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Through Stone Walls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [breathedout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathedout/gifts).



The darkness at the foot of the bed grows ever darker, ever denser, as if it grows in proportion with the invisible weight pinning Laura down. Its edges blur, swirl, send off tendrils of smoke, and it is moving closer.

And she does not feel fear.

She was dreaming of something, before she awoke to find this substance, or this creature, here. She was dreaming of graceful movements, soft caresses of skin, and thick, thick heavy waving dark brown hair she can bury her hands in, that smells of spices and smoke and warmth. She was dreaming, and she cannot feel anything but what she felt in the dream, and she feels languid and warm and waiting, fixed in place, in suspense.

The darkness at the foot of the bed shapes itself, stretching, growing limbs and climbing onto the bed and over her. And with it comes that smell, of spices and smoke and warmth and something else, something thicker and richer and ... _older_ , somehow, yes, like growing up, like bloodstained linen and quiet talks with one’s governess. And though the edges still blur and swirl into nothingness the darkness has a shape, now, a woman’s, holding herself up over Laura and crawling closer, until she can look into her eyes.

Her eyes are black and flat and glassy, and maybe Laura does feel afraid.

But she cannot move – she cannot even feel that she is trying to move – and she cannot keep her mind on her fear. And the woman above her has thick hair covering her shoulders, and Laura’s shoulders, and soft skin where it presses against hers, and Laura is naked. Perhaps this is a dream. She closes her eyes. It would be all right, if it was a dream.

And the woman is clothed only in a thin nightdress beneath her own darkness. There’s nothing under it; Laura can feel her skin, now, just masked by the smooth cloth, as she lowers her body to cover Laura completely. Her breasts brush, then press, against Laura’s. Her forearms lie on either side of Laura’s pinned arms. Her legs push between hers, spreading them open. She is so close. And between them, between their bodies and between Laura’s legs, she feels opened, anticipatory, as the woman’s darkness reaches its swirling edges down to touch Laura entirely. To rest her darkness against all of her.

She is buried in scent, the scent of Carmilla’s hair, and yes, if this is a dream then let this be Carmilla, Carmilla who holds her and calls her _mine_ and looks down from the beautiful ancient portrait hanging over her bed. And Laura reaches up.

Her hands move now as if they had never been restrained. The air around Carmilla’s body is thicker, somehow, and it feels as if it is caressing her hands as she places them on Carmilla’s waist. And then – oh, cloth moving easily under her hands, her fingers finding out Carmilla’s waist and her ribcage and the long curved hollow of her spine and the rise of her hips. Carmilla nudges her body closer, further between Laura’s legs, and _purrs_ – that is the only word for it, that low rumble of satisfaction. And Laura reaches further.

Her hands feel out the curves of Carmilla’s backside, the fold where it meets her legs. She tugs, and the cloth is pulled up, and she gathers it into her hands and shoves it higher and touches, oh, Carmilla’s skin directly.

After that first touch she yanks roughly at the cloth, then slides her hands up Carmilla’s sides under it and feels her cool, soft skin, and something else as well, as if the darkness wavering off Carmilla’s body is solid enough to catch between her fingers.

Carmilla is just a little tense, and Laura doesn’t want that, and doesn’t know how to make it go away. She runs her hands down her sides, both soothing her friend and glorying in the sensations, and then back up, and as she changes direction her arms catch on the dress and pull it up so where it has pooled between their legs it brushes against – rubs against -

Laura gasps, and with that gasp Carmilla seems to be released, and then her lips are pushed against Laura’s, determinedly, passionately, and Laura is kissing her back. Carmilla’s mouth presses her mouth open, her tongue flicks just barely inside, but retreats, again and again. Laura’s lips are new to this, and all she wants is to know more, but she doesn’t know how to ask Carmilla’s tongue to stay, to open both their mouths to each other, and Carmilla will not let her simply reciprocate.

So she runs her hands along the lines of Carmilla’s body as Carmilla’s tongue plays with her mouth, and Carmilla holds herself up a little, so there is more space between them. And Laura pulls her hands free of the fabric and slides them between their bodies and this is a dream, so it is all right, and she can cup Carmilla’s breasts and feel her nipples through her thin dress.

Carmilla shivers above her, and Laura feels her breasts shake slightly, and the cloth of her dress, and the very air around them, it seems. Her lips pull away from Laura’s for a second, and her nipples harden under her fingers, and Laura holds her breasts more tightly, feels the curves of them where they fall from Carmilla’s chest, rubs cloth deliberately against skin.

They have both been so quiet, Carmilla over her and Laura in the cage of her arms, but now Carmilla’s mouth opens enough to let out a moan. Laura’s voice whimpers in reply, without her volition. Carmilla presses her down, trapping her hands between them, and she feels like she is inside a warm, spice-scented tent. She uses what little room she has to keep touching, and Carmilla’s mouth moves from hers to her jaw.

Carmilla moves down over her, skipping her neck and kissing along her collarbones and chest, just the barest touches of lips. It should be easier to breathe, without her friend’s weight on her, but the air feels cold and thin instead, and she quickly pulls Carmilla back up, where she can kiss her. Carmilla sighs against her lips and slides her right hand down Laura’s body, fitting into all of the curves down her side. Laura breathes in the scent of her hair and spreads her legs.

Carmilla stays pressed against her as her hand slips between them. Laura twitches her fingertips as much as she can against Carmilla’s bosom, and waits for her touch, wondering and anticipating.

She doesn’t feel it in one place. It feels as if Carmilla’s fingers are sending pleasure through her skin and into her flesh, as if she is being changed for the moment into nothing but a vessel for that pleasure. But she does feel how it changes, deepens and shifts and is added to as Carmilla caresses her way into her, and she gasps and tenses her fingers on Carmilla’s breasts.

She feels herself tightening and stretching under Carmilla, feels as if she is changing utterly, or will change. She feels the pleasure within her add to itself and grow and discover new nerves to gather in. It grows for so long, quickly but never ending, and she feels like it will last forever, has lasted forever, must end, will never end, now, now!

As her world shakes Carmilla is kissing her even more passionately, and Laura can only leave her mouth open and receptive to it. At last the fit leaves her and she slumps under Carmilla, who smiles against her lips and pulls back a little, bending down to kiss Laura’s neck.

But she shouldn’t just lie here and be kissed; surely she can give Carmilla the same amazing shock as Carmilla has given her. Surely she must.

So she reaches up – it is hard, it feels as if her arms are tied to the bed, but she reaches up and pushes Carmilla off her, and Carmilla hisses in surprise as she falls to the bed before Laura is on top of her in turn. Carmilla’s hands reach up at once, but Laura kisses her chest and they drop to the bed again. Carmilla holds surprisingly still as Laura finds her nipple beneath the thin cloth of her nightdress, but when Laura hesitantly sucks at it she arches upwards and whimpers, just a little. Encouraged, Laura’s hand slides up between her legs.

Her fingers meet curled hair first. The skin beyond is soft and slippery, and she doesn’t know where to touch. But her fingers slide through folds and Carmilla moans softly, so she lets the shape of Carmilla’s body guide her, and then her friend’s agitated movements.

She is new to this, and not skilled, but Carmilla’s hips move on their own, rubbing her body against Laura’s fingers, and Laura moves them only when she gasps with want, and her hands slide into Laura’s hair. Her body is so warm, and wet, and her breasts tilt towards the ceiling, towards Laura’s mouth where she is hungry for them. And Carmilla is shaking and tightening and swelling against her hand.

When Carmilla at last convulses and melts beneath her Laura falls sideways and slumps next to her. She feels again excited and limp, sparkling and enervated. Her insides are reaching out to Carmilla again although she feels like she doesn’t have the strength to lift a finger.

Carmilla sighs and turns, curls up next to her and pillows her head on Laura’s breast. Laura pants up at the ceiling. She wants to press all of herself against her friend’s body, again, but Carmilla is still – perfectly still, not moving at all, can anyone be so still? – and she cannot ask her for more. She drapes one arm over Carmilla’s form and tries to relax. Carmilla sighs and nuzzles against her chest, and they lie still for a long time.

Suddenly Laura feels a stinging pain as if two large needles are striking, an inch or two apart, deep into her breast. She sits up with a scream, and Carmilla flails and falls off her, and off the bed entirely.

She feels like she is waking up. The room is still lit by the candle that has burnt there all through the night, and a female figure is standing at the foot of the bed, a little at the right side. It is in a dark loose dress, and its hair is down and covering its shoulders. A block of stone could not be more still. There is not the slightest stir of respiration. As she stares at it, the figure appears to change its place, nearer to the door; then, close to it, the door opens, and it leaves.


End file.
